


White Cloaks

by aceofhearts88



Series: Howling at the Stars [10]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Decisions are being made that heavily affect the future, Honor, Kingsguard, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, we're going totally off canon for real now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 08:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12229074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofhearts88/pseuds/aceofhearts88
Summary: Aerys was a Mad Man.But Aerys' Seven...those were great man. The Kingsguard of Aerys II. Seven honorable Knights. The seven best fighters in the realm, those white cloaks had been whiter than snow, that white armor had shone with the respect, the glory and the love the people had for them.Barristan Selmy mourned for those times. Jaime was a broken soul. And the rest of his sworn brothers? All dead.And around them...court was beginning to fall apart. It was time to wash the dirt off of that white cloak.





	White Cloaks

**Author's Note:**

> The Plot thickens and deviates further from canon!
> 
> You'll soon, and especially in further Oneshots, see that with the exception of two, I am not a Lannister fan.

There were days where Barristan found himself waking up in the morning with a mind that still believed everything to be like it had once been. Minutes where he stared up at the white ceiling of his small chamber in the White Sword Tower and expected to hear the excessive chatter from Oswell and the affirmative grunts from Jonothor as they went down to break their fast in the round room the Kingsguard had for the occasion.

Lewyn would snarl at them to be quiet, Gerold would remind him that staying up all night with his activities gave him no room to complain over a lack of sleep and then knock against Barristan's door. He would follow them down into the meeting room, Oswell would have found a more attentive audience in Jaime while Jonothor was allowed to go back to dozing with his eyes open. 

Arthur would be brooding over a half eaten blood orange already across the table from them, his mind a million leagues away and still half asleep from standing guard over Rhaegar in the library until the candles were all burned out. Lewyn would fall into a seat on Arthur's right, Barristan would take the one on his other side and Gerold his at the head of the table.

Oswell and Jaime would hold up most of the conversation until enough food had met Lewyn's stomach to let the Dornish sun be awake. Arthur would doze off somewhere between shedule plans and sparring challenges, Barristan would push his plate out of the way and distract Gerold.

Those were times long gone now. Three years in numbers only but it felt like a lifetime ago since those memories had been active. Brothers lost, two of them he had seen fallen himself. Jonothor, cut down at the Trident, fighting four Baratheon soldiers at once. Lewyn, slain at the Trident defending Rhaegar's back, four arrows in his back and it still had taken two men to take him down.

Gerold, Oswell and Arthur had died far away in Dorne. When the news had come by raven, Barristan had still been not that far from the Stranger's door himself in the Red Keep, pardoned by the new King himself. Jaime had brought the news to him, numb, more detached from the world than ever.

Nowadays, Barristan woke up, dressed himself in the silver-white armor of the Kingsguard, donned the white cloak and only shortly swept into the round room to grab a bit of bread with honey before starting his duties. No more discussions over who was to take over guard of whom on that day, no more watching Oswell and Arthur spar over who had to sit with Rhaegar in the library again.

Despite the ghosts haunting the castle and his memories, Barristan had thought he had formed his life into something that he could endure.

And then Jon Arryn had called the Dornish to court for trade negotiations.

Jaime went from carrying the cold smug mask to protect his broken parts back into a wreck after Barristan had the pleasure to tell him of the King's letter. 

„He wants to invite the Martells to court?“ Jaime had asked him when they had sat in the younger man's chamber that evening, „Could have made his death quicker if he set the blade to his own neck. Prince Oberyn will poison us all.“ Barristan had winced but hadn't been able to contradict Jaime's expectations. 

„The Martells will never come.“ He said nevertheless, „Prince Doran will not leave Sunspear in his young daughter's hand, she is but a child. And Prince Oberyn swore to never set foot into the capital again as long as lions are prowling the street.“ Jaime had sent him a look and Barristan had shrugged, some things would never be forgiven.

The Princess' murder and the slaughter of her children. Not even Jaime had entertained the notion of forgiving his father for those orders. 

Some days later Barristan got proven right when the Maester read the Dornish answer, Prince Doran thanking the King for his offer but immediately refusing the invitation, writing that he would send a representative in his stead.

Jon Arryn had tensed then at the Maester's pause and Barristan had already feared the worst, that Prince Doran would send his little brother after all and they would have to be on their toes for the next six moons until they could be sure there really was no poison lurking around the Red Keep. 

But the name that had then fallen from the Maester's lips had not been Oberyn Martell, it was in parts maybe even worse.

„Andric Dayne?“ Jaime would choke on the name later that day while the two of them were walking through the gardens to get a moment alone. „That's...not good...“ The blond man muttered after a moment and Barristan couldn't help but hum in agreement, stopping to look out over the Blackwater Bay.

Not much was known about the Lord of Starfall outside of Dorne, fostered at Sunspear under the ruling Princess of Dorne and her husband the Prince Consort, not even one and twenty when he had become the Lord of his House after his father's death. That was it, unless you had served alongside his little brother in the Kingsguard for years.

'Where is that famous Dornish hot temper?' People had used to ask Arthur, that shy quiet young man and he would smile and answer them 'Should meet my brother.' Rhaegar would wince and for people who knew him even slightly that meant something, Lewyn would laugh. The Dayne siblings had been more different than day and night. Arthur with his silent demeanor and his honor and his secret anxieties. Ashara with her wild spirited nature and her wit and her beauty. Allyria with her youth and her sweetness and her charme. 

And Andric with the temper, with the quick cutting tongue, the protectiveness over his family and the eyes that saw everything and everyone, with a mind that could plot and scheme while he was charming the world with a bright gentle smile and loud confidence. There was no nickname and no stories about killings that came along with him, he was no Red Viper, he was the unknown and that somehow made it worse indeed.

And still...

„Maybe we are overreacting.“ Barristan said, frowning down at the waves crashing against the rocks, „The Daynes made peace with the Starks, did they not?“  
„Lady Ashara miscarried a daughter after Brandon Stark dishonored her at Harrenhall. Arthur died keeping the Stark girl hidden away in that tower. Supposedly killed by Ned Stark's blade. Lady Ashara threw herself to her death upon the news. I don't know what you want to call it, but making peace is not exactly what I would call the young Stark's placement at Starfall.“

Ah, Benjen Stark.

Barristan had heard his share of opinions about the boy after Ned Stark had written his king that his little brother would be fostered and squired in Starfall. Discussions and arguments had followed, everyone had their own view of the situation now but almost everyone seemed to agree that nothing had happened voluntarily and that Benjen Stark was a hostage in Dorne in all but name.

He didn't know what to think. He knew neither Andric Dayne, nor Benjen Stark well enough to form an opinion.

\--

Andric Dayne had arrived in King's Landing with an envoy of Dayne knights in full armor and the mistrust and suspicion had been pouring from them in waves. Hard cold eyes, especially those of Lord Dayne himself, riding into the courtyard of the Red Keep with hard judging eyes, framed on either side by his cousin and the new Ser Benjen Stark who had sworn fealty to Starfall.

Who was betrothed to Allyria Dayne.

And whatever might have gone on three years ago, a hostage didn't set to marry his keeper's youngest sister.

A hostage also didn't watch his Lord's back the way the young Stark did, decked out in silver and lavender Dayne armor like Ser Carral on Andric's other side. 

And the introductions couldn't have been any colder, Andric glared Jon Arryn and Barristan down with an intensity that not even Prince Oberyn could have done any better. It was the resemblance to Arthur that really cut Barristan nearly in half, the brothers had been of one height, both had shared the pale blond hair, only Andric's eyes were more blueish than purple where Arthur's eyes had been more violet than Rhaegar's even.

Maybe Jaime had had the right idea in making himself scarce on this day.

Ser Carral Dayne looked like he wanted to see blood rather earlier than later and even Benjen Stark glared at Arryn and Barristan like someone who was already wishing to be gone again.

Anyone who couldn't immediately see where the loyalty of this young man laid was a blind fool.

\--

And then came the bomb.

The meeting with King Robert had been tense, for everyone but the King, who was treating Benjen Stark as if he was still the bright eyed kid he had met as his best friend's little brother while Benjen Stark treated the King with the same cold grace Andric Dayne was presenting as well. He was polite to a tee, manners perfectly intact, but not all of it was real.

There was a fire burning in that boy.

A fire that Barristan got to see when he walked with Andric to the training's yard after the first day of trade talks, King Robert wasn't interested in those. After Ser Benjen had politely declined the Kingsguard offer, Robert hadn't been interested in the visit anymore.

They had stepped into the hidden courtyard and Barristan's heart had stopped upon seeing Jamie sparring off against the young Stark. Next to him Andric had gone completely still and silent and Ser Carral had cursed viciously.

Barristan had wanted to soothe them, wanted to tell them that it was just Jaime's nervous way of trying to ease the tension between the Lannister guards, the Baratheon soldiers, the Kingsguard and the Dornish.

But he couldn't.

Benjen Stark was a good fighter, a natural really, he moved with instinct and grace, his fighting style had clear Northern roots but a lot of Dornish influence as well, something he had very much made his own. It was the little things though that brought Barristan's mind to a complete stand still. The little tiny things, a move pulled here and there, a twist of the wrist, a quickstep, and then most of all the aloof way the boy twisted the sword around in his hand to gain the balance again.

Only ever exactly once.

And then when they broke apart upon Jaime's look at Andric, Benjen twirled the sword around in his hand in an almost bored fashion and by the gods, how had it driven Barristan insane, how many times had he snapped at Arthur to stop it. Doing it with steel was already a stupid reckless habit, but doing it with a blade that could cut through said steel was just really unnecessary. 

Was that something they taught at Starfall? 

Benjen Stark had squired for Ser Carral who in turn was older than Arthur, and as much as Barristan remembered, Arthur and his cousin had never really seen eye to eye. One so honorable and dutiful that he made even responsible and loved Prince Rhaegar look like a lazy fool, the other one apparently inclined to love the pubs and the pleasure houses as much as he loved the sword.

Was there something foul at play? Was it a trick meant to unsettle them even more? Who was playing whom now?

\--

Barristan's first reaction to Jaime telling him that Ned Stark had killed Arthur Dayne in single combat had been an overwhelming desire to laugh. 

How by the gods should that have been possible?

Had Arthur not held Dawn? Had he already been injured so severely that he couldn't hold himself on his feet anymore? 

Or had Ned Stark cheated? Had this honorable man that everyone praised cheated?

Because how else could someone who had never been known as a great swordsman best the miracle child?

\--

Benjen Stark avoided him like the plague, was never seen outside his rooms without at least three Dayne men surrounding him, no way for Barristan to approach him. Ser Carral was not someone he saw eye to eye to, so Barristan had to brace himself and confront Andric Dayne directly.

A conversation that went about as well as it could be expected, it didn't leave him with answers, instead it just gave him more questions.

But one thing stood out.

Upon being flat out asked if Arthur was alive, Andric had not said no.

\--

The first night after the Dornish had left, Jaime approached him with a bottle of Arbor gold on top of the White Sword Tower, sitting down next to him in silence. 

They hadn't particularly gotten along in the initial phase right after Robert had ascended to the throne, right after the very much bloody end of the Rebellion. Barristan had been injured, confined to bedrest for a long time and Jaime had tiptoed around him, tasked with guarding him after he had been dragged into the Black Cells and then back out of it again. Jamie had brought him news, the good and the grim one.

And even now, three years later it was still awkward sometimes but they were mostly holding onto a tentative friendship because of what all else they had lost. Complicated and messy really.

„Essos?“ Jamie started their conversation after a good sip on the wine bottle and Barristan glanced over to him, green eyes were set into the half clouded night sky, „I've never been but from what I heard over the years, fella looking like him could fit in so well in Lys or Volantis that he'll disappear.“ He paused, taking another mouth full of wine before offering the bottle to Barristan who took it gladly as Jamie continued again, „And he knew Valyrian.“

„So you saw those moves as well.“ Barristan noted, Arbor gold running down his throat and warming his cold shaken veins. Andric's furious rant had rattled up some unpleasant memories. Jamie snorted, bringing his arms up to hug himself almost, as if he was cold, too.  
„Those little tricks made me kiss the sand so many times until I finally learned to work with them. Barristan...“ Jamie lost his words in the end and Barristan sighed.

„I don't know. All I know is that we cannot tell our thoughts on it to anyone.“ And he turned to look Jaime straight in those sharp green eyes, it hit him then that this boy was only twenty. Jamie had joined the Kingsguard when he hadn't been much younger than Benjen Stark was now, the youngest ever, even Arthur the wonder child had been granted a longer time without the pressure. „We cannot tell anyone, Jamie. Robert wants him dead, you were the one who told me about his foul mouthed tirades after Lord Stark rode for Dorne. Your own father will see him as a threat. You cannot even breathe a word to your sister, Jamie, you got to promise me.“ A nod followed and Barristan leaned back against the wall behind him again, staring up into the stars.

„Can I say it to you then?“ Jamie wanted to know, hugging himself with his own arms and the way he looked up at the stars reminded Barristan of the look the boy had had when he had knelt on the forest ground five years ago. Arthur standing in front of him, Dawn still painted in the blood of the Smiling Knight as he raised it to lay upon Jaime's shoulder.

„Go ahead.“

Jamie blew out a breath and then spoke the words that made it all the more real, this thought, this idea, this suspicion.

„I think Arthur is alive.“

This hope.

\--

A few moons later, Barristan was almost happy about raids in the villages in the Kingswood if only because it meant having an excuse to disappear from court for a while and drag Jamie out with him. The Queen had miscarried another child only recently, a mere week after her so far only living child had perished from a fever. Prince Joffrey had not gotten to see seven moons. 

The King remained without an heir, the tension at court was so thick not even Valyrian steel would be able to cut it.

Lord Tywin was unhappy with his daughter, Cersei was lashing out at everyone and Robert was growing even more impatient with her than he already was. Barristan couldn't blame Jamie for the deep dark bags under his eyes, the boy was constantly dragged between everyone and yelled at by all involved, all the while still struggling with their own little secret. Jamie had changed since the Dornish visit, something had shifted inside of him, made him look again like the fifteen year old kid who had wanted to do good and be as honorable as those seven sworn brothers.

So getting him out of the capital was the best chance at giving him some peace, least one of the other lions managed to turn him into a puppet again and broke apart what had grown inside of him once more. Barristan could see what was developing with the other Lannisters at court and he didn't like it one bit, a small part of him was so far even maybe a little happy that there was no heir.

Robert had smiled at the murdered children. Cersei had smiled at Elia's corpse.

Let it have cursed them both.

\--

They rode through the biggest of the three villages that had been affected by raids and Barristan was already overcome with a bad feeling. The smallfolk rushed to get off the street, downright rushed to hide when their horses came down the path, fearful gazes following them.

It was such a blatant change to the last time Barristan had ridden along this path that it left him speechless and his mind dangerously blank. Last time, people had cheered, children had reached up with their hands, crowding around their horses.

Well...

Not Barristan's horse.

It had been the white beast of the Sword of the Morning and the black mare of the Crown Prince. Blushed red to the tips of his ears, Arthur had still smiled, shy and quiet as always while children and maidens alike had reached out to get the chance to touch a spot on the white cloak. Rhaegar had laughed, those eyes of his alive and full of joy for once while he had watched his best friend under the loud cheers of the smallfolk.

'Our Ser Arthur' they had screamed as they had returned from Harrenhall, „Ser Arthur, Ser Arthur!“ Slightly more than a year after the fight against the Kingswood Brotherhood that had been. And of course their Prince had been welcomed back to the Crownlands as well, they had called for him to sing something and Rhaegar had only too gleefully launched into the song the minstrels had spun about Arthur's fight against the Smiling Knight.

Barristan didn't know to this day if Arthur had ever learned that it had been Rhaegar himself who had written the song and brought it among the people in disguise.

What a difference to now.

It was eeriely quiet as they stopped at the Inn, giving their horses over to a stableboy who didn't look either of them in the eyes. Conversations died the second they stepped into the Inn and Barristan felt Jamie reach towards the hilt of his sword at his side as they walked over to a free table.

\--

When Barristan spoke to the inn owner about offering up royal coin for help in revealing who was behind the raids and then defeating said perpetrators, conversations in the inn died and Jamie and him found themselves under an onslaught of dirty looks. The inn owner huffed and vanished into a backroom again, Barristan felt that the completely blank face of Jamie perfectly gave away what he was feeling himself.

What the Seven Hells was going on in the Kingswood again?

„It is not a slight against you, Sers.“ The serving maid spoke up very quietly, eyes solely fixed on the wine she was pouring them, „The people...they want our Ser Arthur, Sers. Not you. Not Barristan the Bold. Not the Kingslayer. They want their Ser Arthur back.“ Jamie reached for his filled cup and emptied it while Barristan looked at the scared girl, she grabbed some courage inside of her and looked up at him, „If you want to gain a chance for them to consider helping you...tell them how Ser Arthur really died.“

„Really died?“ Barristan asked her, could feel several tables around them grow quieter in their chattering, „What do you mean, my Lady? What rumors are being spread around these lands?“ She sent a wide eyed look to Jamie and clutched her wine bottle even tighter, Barristan kicked Jamie under the table, prompting the younger knight to remember his charme.

„My Lady, I hold Ser Arthur Dayne in the highest respects, it was him who knighted me right outside this village after the Brotherhood was defeated. I would have the truth about what is being spread in falseness over my friend's death.“ His smile made her blush despite her unease and she looked at someone over Jamie's shoulder, Barristan turned to look.

„I am surprised I have to tell a Lannister about what his own people are telling the smallfolk.“ A man with an age somewhere between Jamie and Barristan spoke up, dark beard rough and long, clothes setting him as a miller maybe. Jamie frowned and Barristan himself was confused, letting Jamie take the lead for now, leaning back to observe, almost everyone was unashamedly watching them now.

And none of those looks were in any way or form similar to those Barristan had seen thrown towards the Kingsguard when Arthur had charmed the smallfolk back onto their side with his shy blushing smiles.

Something that neither Jamie nor Barristan were capable off.

No one left in the Kingsguard had the everlasting calm and the irresistable humbleness of the Sword of the Morning.

People had looked at Arthur and had stood in awe at his skills and valor, had sung praise to his honor and his values, all while at the same time wanting to wrap that White Knight into a protective hold and shelter him.

Barristan had seen it so often.

Had seen it in himself.

Had seen it in a Kingsguard Commander who was strict and at times cold and had still never let anyone dare touch Arthur Dayne's reputation. 

Had seen it in a Dornish Prince who had fought tooth and nail to go against even the smallest rumor about the fellow Dornish Kingsguard.

And most of all he had seen it in a young Prince who had grown invisible dragon wings and claws to keep everything and everyone from tainting even the smallest spot on his best friend's honor and later that white cloak.

Deadliest Knight in the Kingsguard for whom the smallfolk would have thrown themselves in front of every blade and arrow meant to hurt him.

„My own people?“ Jamie wanted to know after a moment's pause, eyes frowning, „What is going on here?“ He pushed in after and Barristan hissed at him to remind him to tame that temper, around them the men were shifting, but it was the supposed miller who spoke again.  
„You think it's some outlaws raiding our villages? Fancy outlaws then wearing those golden cloaks.“ He snarled and Barristan froze, saw Jamie's eyebrows disappear into his hairline almost, his mind was spinning in quick circles.

„Goldcloaks?“ Jamie gasped, showing his shock, „You are being raided by my father's men?“

No wonder the smallfolk was terrified of the Kingsguard when the Goldcloaks were already raiding their villages, Barristan thought, they must think they were here to finish the job. Oh Rhaegar, Arthur, you would be raging if you could see this now.

„You think I'm lying, Kingslayer? What reason do I have to lie? What is there to lose for me? For any of us?“ The man camly spoke up again, watching the emotions crossing over Jamie's shocked face, Barristan knew what they were and none of them was doubt to the man's word. It had been good to get the kid out of the capital, to open his eyes fully again. „Our Ser Arthur saved my boy's life when the Brotherhood burned down my mill. Prince Rhaegar himself bought the first grains after the king's men had rebuilt it. And now I have to stand here, fearing that Lannisters will burn everything I built up for myself down again.“

„That won't happen.“ Jamie choked out before he caught himself, „They will be stopped.“ Another man snorted, straightening up.  
„Yes, they will, but not by you, boy. We help ourselves now. We don't need the king's men, not this king's men.“ And the words couldn't have been clearer. Robert might have no trouble with the Lords, might have only a quiet tension with Dorne and some personal dispute with Ned Stark, but the smallfolk was a whole different matter.

The smallfolk had feared the Mad King as well.

But the smallfolk here had only wanted one person exchanging him on the throne.

They still wanted only one King. Rhaegar. Their Prince, their handsome Silver Prince and his White Knight.

It was dangerous thinking but still...Barristan would have preferred to see Rhaegar on the throne himself as well. Rhaegar would have been a good king, he had cared about the people and their troubles, higborn, lowborn, he hadn't mattered to him. He had wanted to do right by everyone, and he had had so many ideas.

Robert only wanted to drink and feast, it was the Hand who ruled the country. Such a dangerous concept, only not a terrible thing so far because Jon Arryn was a just capable man, but in the shadows Tywin Lannister was growing in power. It could only end in disaster.

Barristan didn't know whom Rhaegar would have brought in as Hand, digging out Jon Connington from wherever he had crawled in after his exile would have been an option. As much as Arthur and Jon hadn't gotten along at times, Rhaegar had still trusted the man and Connington was a smart. Maybe he would have asked his good-father to come to court, the former Prince Consort of Dorne knew political games and had learned much from his wife and from the political nightmare that Dornish Houses could be. 

All of that was a what if.

And Barristan needed to focus on the here and now with the actual problem they had with lion men terrorizing the smallfolk.

„Do you know how to fight?“ Barristan chose to raise his voice again, Jamie immediately fell quiet and sat back, mind obviously racing, „Because I can assure you that the Lannister men know how to wield a sword.“ The miller looked around, exchanging looks with men and Barristan knew what it meant, had seen it before, that moment where they decided whether or not you were asked to leave in the next second.

It was a man leaning back against the far back wall of the Inn who nodded and the miller turned back to look at them, „We are learning. We have someone who is teaching us, he wants to see the lions and stags suffer as well.“

„I'd like to meet him.“

\--

The miller led them to the hut of the smith on the edge of the village and Barristan saw how Jamie smiled at some children peeking out from behind a card at the side of the road. And then how he blinked in horror as the children blanched and ran away.

They knew that to be different, too.

As respected and glorified as the Kingsguard and the Royal Family had been, children hadn't been interested in that when they had been out in the capital or in the villages on the road. They had always come running, poked at white armor and white cloaks. The daring brave small ones had reached up arms. Rhaegar had been the most common culprit to be found hugging small ones, if Elia was with them she as well could often be found crouched low and talking to the children.

Among the Kingsguard, Lewyn and Oswell had usually been the one surrounded by the most round faces with wide eyes, later Jamie as well. Barristan had always found himself approached by the slightly older boys, been asked for stories, while Arthur always found himself asked to show Dawn.

His thoughts about the children's obvious fear were derailed though when they stepped into the hot hut of the smith and the miller turned to walk over to the two men standing at the back, one of them obviously the smith.  
„There is someone here to see you, Lonnie. They promised not to cause trouble.“ The miller called out to the man who was standing with his back turned to them, inspecting swords the smith held out for him in the light of the fire. He turned around and Barristan blinked. Once, twice. And then...

„Richard?!“ Jamie blurted out rather loudly, slapping a hand over his mouth in the next moment while this man across from them swept brunet hair out of his face and stared back at Barristan.  
„How in all the Seven Hells did you survive?“ Barristan called out himself, if with a more controlled and lowered voice, „Where have you been the last three years? Have you lost your mind to stay this close to the capital? They would kill you on sight!! Hells, we probably have the unsaid order to kill you!“

Richard Lonmouth calmly raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, both miller and smith were staring at all three of them.

„Will you?“ Richard asked all casual and Barristan scowled at him before striding forward and pulling the younger man who had been one of Rhaegar's squires and then friends into a hug, Richard embraced him back briefly.  
„Of course we're not going to kill you, you idiot.“ Barristan rumbled and slapped a hand to the back of the knight's head, „I can't believe you're fucking alive.“

\--

„They act in the dark of the night.“ Richard told them a few minutes later, sitting on some benches behind the smith's shop, „They don't wear their fancy gold cloaks of course but even the simplest child around here will recognize Lannister armor.“ He pointed out, Jaime leaned forward and dropped his face into his hands.

Barristan wondered what he was thinking about. 

Jaime had distanced himself from his family after the Daynes' visit, he had barely spent time with his sister anymore, unless he got dragged into another argument between the Queen and her father. 

„I don't understand how this could have gone on so long without us knowing. Why did none of these people go to petition hearings?“ Barristan wanted to know but Richard snorted, in his brown leather clothing he looked barely distinguishable from the other smallfolk. He had thought him to be dead when there had been no sign of him after the Battle at the Trident.

Seems like it was a good time for some dead people to be not so dead after all.

„What did the smallfolk do when it was the Brotherhood terrorizing these woods? They staid silent and helped them instead of being made a fool at court, you know how these things go, Barristan. And frankly, even if I had Arthur's dedication and loveliness, I wouldn't even for a second think about sending them to this king.“ Richard snarled in the end and turned his head to stare at the street, some children were chasing a dog around. „I had to watch this Usurper cut down my friend, had to run for my life when Robert Baratheon sat his stinking arse down on Rhaegar's throne. He may be king now, but he is not my king, and he surely isn't the king for these people either.“

„So, why stay here then?“ Jamie quietly wanted to know, looking up again, „Why not go North, or to Essos? Why stay so close to King's Landing when there is a hunting order on all of Rhaegar's closest circle? Richard, it's not arrest, you're not gonna get a trial, you're gonna get killed.“  
„You don't think I know that?“ Richard shot back at Jamie with that onslaught of a temper that had sometimes gotten him in trouble as the Crown Prince's squire, „I'm here because these people needed someone, because by being here I can at least pretend that I'm entirely letting my friends down by having survived when they didn't.“

„So you teach them how to fight?“

„The Goldcloaks kill, they raid, they rape, they destroy. For no other reason than to cause trouble, they're not gaining anything from it. It's the damn Brotherhood all over again, only this time they are skilled swordmen with real armor and funded by the Lord of Casterly Rock.“ Richard spit out, his beard was longer, his hair anyway, he looked weary and tired but also determined, he was fighting for a cause, fighting for good honest people who had no way of defending themselves.

Rhaegar would be proud.

But Barristan didn't say it out loud.

„You can try and look at me, Jaime and tell me your father does not know his men are doing this, but we both know it would be a lie, that he is very much capable of ordering this. All for the sake of power.“ Richard reasoned and Jamie whined but nodded, clearly unhappy about the situation he found himself in now.  
„Stirring up trouble within the smallfolk, handing the evidence over to Robert and painting Jon Arryn in a bad light. Aye, my father wants to be Hand and he will go over as many dead bodies as he sees necessary.“ Jamie whispered, hands curling into fists, „Especially as long as there is no heir who survived infancy.“

„Sorry about the dead prince. I mean no harm to children, even when I hate their parents. I'm not like the King in that.“ Richard grumbled and Jamie gave him a wry smile.  
„I won't say I didn't mourn my nephew or those children who never even drew breaths, but I won't grieve for him. He was a mean one, even as a baby.“ Jamie explained after a loud exhale, „Is there anything we can do for you? Any help that we can offer that these people will take?“

„Bring magic back and either return the dead to the living or give me half the skill and sense that Rhaegar and Arthur had. These people won't trust White Cloaks anymore, not unless you bring the dead back and the one wearing it is their Sword of the Morning.“ Richard chuckled in half sadness and half pain in the end and Jamie sent a defining look over to Barristan.

Who decided that passed time or not, Richard could still be trusted.

„We think he might not be dead.“

„What?!“

Unfortunately further explanations had to wait because as Barristan opened his mouth to start talking, two young men stumbled out of the smith's shops, freezing at the sight of them for a second before turning to Richard.

„They're back!“

Richard jumped to his feet, hand going to the hilt of his sword, Jamie and Barristan followed his move, their minds immediately settling on alert tenseness. Richard looked at the two young boys, „Hand out the weapons, but tell the men to stay back yet. Ready but hidden.“ He got two nods before both young men raced away again, Richard glanced over to them, „You want to help? Show me on whose side you are standing.“

\--

The times of a Kingsguard blindly following along their King's orders and commands were over. 

Barristan would not let another King act out his moods and attitudes on innocent people, before he had sworn to protect the King and the royal family, he had once sworn another vow.

'Do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves?'

He was a Knight, and maybe he should have always remembered that he was a Knight before he was a Kingsguard. They weren't puppets or shining guard dogs. The Kingsguard had honor and it was high time they got some of it back into their ranks.

Jamie had been right, sometimes a Kingsguard needed to protect the people from the king as well. Barristan had turned his back on his own made choices for a long time, too long, he was ready to stop standing by and start being a Knight again.

A Knight of the Kingsguard.

His armor would not be soiled anymore.

It might not be the man sitting on the throne that Barristan had wanted to see there, but that didn't mean the realm had to suffer under it.

Not as long as there were good Knights left who wore white cloaks.

\--

„When we dealt with this“ Richard began as they strode back through the smith's shop and out onto the market place of the village, „I want to know how in all Seven Hells Arthur might be alive!“  
„Fair enough.“ Barristan answered him and pushed himself to keep up with Richard's pace, bloody armor, Jamie was frowning heavily at his side, the sounds of screaming could be heard. „What do you plan on doing against the Lannister soldiers?“

„Let that be my problem.“ Jamie sneered, cutting across whatever Richard had wanted to say, Barristan made to protest but Jamie shook his head and drew his sword. „If they stand for what a Lannister is now, then I don't want to be a Lannister anymore. I'd rather declare myself a Hill before tainting this cloak any more than I already did. This stops here and now.“

Jamie strode forward to the baker's house, yelling for people to run for shelter and helping a woman to her feet when she fell.

„This will change things.“ Richard called out to Barristan as he hurried after Jamie, vanishing into the house just as the sound of fighting really broke out.  
„It better.“ Barristan said mostly to himself then and then threw himself into getting the villagers to take shelter in the Inn, white cloak flying out.

**Author's Note:**

> Bye bye Joffrey, won't miss you at all.  
> For clarities sake, I want to point out here that Joffrey was still Jaime's son, but he didn't know that for sure, the siblings are not on good terms anymore. And also, they don't sleep with each other anymore. I'm gonna protect this nugget from that devious witch.


End file.
